Here With Me
by Lilith Kisaragi
Summary: All good things come to an end. And all goodbyes are hard. But still, it hurts too much seeing you leave my side. It hurts too much...


Hello there!

Here I am, once more, writing in English! I tried this time doing this right in English and then translating it to my mother tongue. It has been difficult, yes, but the encourage words of my beta and another friend of mine who read it and liked it really hyped me somehow XD

Anyway, um, yeah. Pruind again. Sorry, guys, I just love these two too much. They are my OTP and I'm not even joking, THEY are. So, if you "dare" to read, hope you find it interesting enough XD

Oh, also, this was intended to be read along with this gifset on Tumblr: http:*/lilithkvonbeilschmidt.*tumblr.*com/post/38177594683/here-with-me-fandom-axis-powers-hetalia

I got feels. They just reminded me of them. Just how clingy one of them is while the other is so peaceful. The way they look at each others' eyes with so much love, they way they caress the other... Everything was so cute and it fit their relationship so perfectly I couldn't help it. Sorry again for my over-fangirlism xD

Anyway, um, as always:

**Hetalia's characters Prussia and India belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Reviews/criticisms/opinions are accepted!**

Hope you enjoy this~!

* * *

There you are, folding the clothes and carefully putting them in the now almost full suitcase. It feels like it was yesterday when you were doing the exact opposite, emptying it, preparing for a so called "long stay". _Long_ is particularly one of those words a nation like you shouldn't use so lightly, you know?

Because, for us, no time is long enough if it's not _forever_.

I come a little bit closer to your body, close enough to breathe in nothing but your spicy scent, realizing how badly I had become accustomed to it since the first time we met, and my arms move on its own –really– to encircle your chest. But you don't even care at all about my presence as you continue folding one of your shirts, and that surely is one of my biggest pet peeves _and that you know oh so well_. So I let out a grunt and rub my head against your back, as a hungry cat asking for its food would do, being as annoying as I can –which is _a fucking lot_–, silently screaming _I demand your attention right now. _You just let out a deep and lengthy sigh, which you probably intended to sound annoyed, like _stop being a nuisance right now_. It was not very effective. Not at all, I may say, as my hand moves to catch one of your busy arms to prevent you from continuing with your task.

"Would you please refrain yourself from acting like a spoiled brat, Gilbert?"

"Not until you kiss me."

And, possibly because I know you were not going to do it yourself, I just throw one of my arms around your neck to turn your head towards mine, trying to reach your lips. But you are faster than my mouth and you manage to escape from it.

And I honestly thought, as I looked right into your golden eyes, that you were going to scold me harshly this time. So, when you came closer to my face and kissed me softly, I swear my whole world stopped for a brief moment, being somehow still overwhelmed by the fact that you can actually, somehow, love the spoiled brat I am. And I really wished for that kiss to last forever, for long at least. _How naïve_, I mutter to myself as I feel your lips parting away barely few seconds later.

While your thumbs caress my cheeks with so much tenderness it's almost painful right now, I replace my hand from your body to the sides of your face, trying to caress you as softly as you do with these rough fingertips of mine. I would really like to make you feel what you're making me feel right now. Like, just be able to sweep away your fears and anxieties, to soothe your most hidden and unspoken pain, to calm you down with the rhythm of the soundless lullaby, to send you with such a simple thing as a mere touch all my desperate and unconditional love for you.

But my damn rough fingertips are just too dumb to do such a thing that, as many others, only _you_ can make, so I give up and I hug you tight. I hug you tight, not wanting to let you go not even a single inch more away from me, much less back home.

"Please, don't go… _Please_…"

"But I must."

You _must_, you say? I let out a disgusted grunt as I lie you down on the bed in a careful enough movement. And, as I was using my own hands to pin yours down, I realized how badly I wished my hands could _nail_ you, _crucify_ you there, so you wouldn't be able to ever leave, so you would have no other option than to stay and love me forever.

But then again, that's too naïve and _perhaps_ too selfish also.

I can hear your still calm and collected voice whispering softly my name, staring right into my eyes, right into my soul. I know you're using that to call out for my most rational side, for me to come to my senses and realize there is no other possible end for this than the one where you eventually leave, to make me understand this hurts you too but it's unavoidable. But I don't want to listen to that particular word that, if spoken by you, can enslave me to your almighty will. _Not now_.

Because the last thing I want right now is to realize that there is not even a single thing I can do to make you stay.

"Fuck your musts, fuck your responsibilities, fuck each and every thing that ties you _there_ and not _here_ with me!"

And right after saying that, I close my eyes to kiss you, wishing for my last and only weapon in this battle to be effective enough to steal a couple of minutes from your precious time to reconsider this madness. Maybe after a little while you would give up and love me back. Maybe then I could make love to you once more and maybe you would then understand you're too _vital_ for me to simply let you go so easily. But you use this brief moment of weakness to push me to one side and free yourself from me.

And I wished you said something particularly wounding and tactless, so I could have an excuse to have a big argument, so I could have an excuse to hate you, because hatred is much easier to handle than this pain you leave in my chest.

However, you only looked back at me and said with a slightly broken voice:

"Forgive me. Please."

And you keep on packing your suitcase, leaving me in that bed where we spent these countless hours together, now all by myself, hurt in every possible way a man can be, starting already the countdown for the next time you'll be here with me.


End file.
